Choreography Enhancing Character and Beyond In "Wicked"

Wicked is a beloved musical (adapted from Gregory Maguire’s novels) that poignantly challenges binaries of “good and evil” and the stories we’re told to believe. I saw the first film, far too long after it was released (ask my friends, I’m perpetually behind on films and shows) – and it struck me how much Christopher Scott’s commanding and clever choreography contributed: to the film’s characterization, plot, emotional depth, and beyond. 

Scott’s movement vocabulary is a fluid, inspired blend of various styles: street, jazz, musical theater, and beyond. It’s vibrant, joyful, and emotionally impactful all at once. Yet, like the most accomplished musical theater choreography, it supports the action and character development at hand rather than calling attention to itself (as valuable as it is on its own!). 

As a dance critic and concerted enthusiast, I fully admit my bias – but perhaps I can convince you just how impactful the dancing is within the context of this film, and thus its potential for meaning and power far beyond one film (we’ll see!). Let’s take a deeper look. This essay will be most meaningful if you’ve seen the film, and does contain spoilers. 

The first major dance scene embodies residents of Munchkinland celebrating the Wicked Witch of the West’s demise. It bursts with movements of pure exaltation, strong and angular like a fist pumping with a “whoop!”. The residents spin with hearts lifted, receiving the new sun of a better day. They gesture with flowers and plants – life-filled flora – in clap-like qualities. Their stomps are fiercely elated (yes, they can be, and I bet you yourself have stomped joyfully, dear reader). 

It’s as if their bodies must find every possible outlet for releasing pure jubilance. Their individual joy also becomes exponential in the collective, far more than the sum of its parts. That can begin captivating us in the audience from this very early scene: absorbing us into this story, these characters, and this world.

In “Loathing”, we see more dance propelling characterization and plot when Elphaba (Cynthia Erivo) and Glinda (Ariana Grande) are (begrudgingly) paired as roommates. Glinda walks with her posse, offering quick and twitchy movements – calling to mind gossip. There’s almost a quirkiness to the movement quality here, conveying the slightly out-of-control feeling one can have in such fervent anger. Stomps here are angry…the two young women are truly not fans of each other (well, at least it’s mutual). 

The next ensemble section is a good deal more positive, thanks to Fiyero’s “devil may care” attitude towards school and life. “So what do you do for fun around here?”, he asks – while in the library, where other students might not be thinking about that. Yet that doesn’t stop him; he’s happy to be the maverick. “I see that the responsibility to corrupt my fellow students falls to me,” he sighs…but he doesn’t seem to mind. 

Fiyero (Jonathon Bailey) is happy to show his fellow students how to “dance through life” – stepping with a Fred Astaire carefree quality: light, smooth, rhythmic. He dances on giant spinning clocks with just as much ease – reinforcing his desire to subvert expectations; who cares if clocks are meant to tell time, why can’t they be a stage too? Asymmetrical shapes in movement and in the space are another visual highlight of his waywardness. 

The rebel’s plan works – soon everyone in the library is up and dancing too. Their movement is highly expansive and exuberant, finding just as much possibility in space as they’re finding in their choices. From them dancing right on the edge of wild abandon, those of us watching feel the adrenaline too. 

Speaking of possibility, right after that Glinda creates it for two young lovebirds-to-be – Nessa (Marissa Bode) and Boq (Ethan Slater) – as well as for herself (she shows more kindness and awareness there than she arguably had so far, often coming off arrogant and self-absorbed). Some may perceive Fiyero as vapid and reckless, and fair enough. Yet this scene demonstrates that he may have his own kind of wisdom to share: the wisdom in the joyfully moving body. 

That kindness comes back to Glinda soon; Elphaba arranges for her to get a training wand (and she is in grateful disbelief). Fiyero encourages more spontaneous dancing, which might not be exactly aligned with school rules. Everyone is enjoying the night, carefree and rebellious, when Elphaba arrives. 

She wears all black, topped off with the pointy black hat that Glinda “gifted” her (ahem, maybe not out of fully altruistic impulses). They all laugh at her, and we see her eyes misty – clearly hurt at their closed-mind cruelty. Yet she does not cower away. She will not be ashamed of who she is. 

Defiantly, she steps forward and moves with expressive, unconventional gestures: a hand at her head and another at her hips, fingers splayed, elbows chicken-winging, palms rubbing. It’s as if her body speaks “...you think I’m weird? I’ll show you weird.” She leans all the way in to how they want to see her. 

“It’s as if she doesn’t care what anyone thinks of her,” Fiyero whispers to Glinda. “She just pretends not to,” Glinda responds. Again showing kindness we may not have thought was in her, she steps forward and mirrors Elphaba’s gestures – joining her strangeness, and thus ensuring she isn’t all alone in it. Whether or not it’s reciprocity for Elphaba helping her with the training wand, the impact is the same. 

As their duet develops, and they find attunement in their mirroring, the crowd watches. Their quiet evinces their astonishment. Subtext: “the cool girl is being a freak…but why?”. Yet the endorsement of the “cool girl” is enough to make what was freakish not so freakish anymore; soon they’re also doing Elphaba’s dance. The slightly awkward gestures take on a new ease and vitality in the context of the whole group joyously sharing them. 

Elphaba and Glinda embrace in a tight, sustained hug. The “loathing” is far behind them. Through embodiment, they finally see each other. Being seen in that way, for once, is enough to make Elphaba cry…with happy tears this time, seemingly. Their budding friendship carries into subsequent scenes: where they share deep secrets, offer validation, and come to understand each other even better. 

Glinda soon gets excited to turn her new friend into a “project”; she wants to make her “popular”. Here Glinda shows her true sorcery – grace and fluency with all her tools and trappings of feminine refinement. She points her toes and turns on her heels as she smoothly boops and bops her caboodles of makeup, haircare, and accessories. 

The actual sorcery is more Elphaba’s wheelhouse…Glinda’s, um, incantations (?) of “ballgown!” are unsuccessful. Elphaba offers Glinda help, but she refuses it – seemingly wanting to take full charge of her friend’s transformation. Elphaba, for her part, is along for the ride as an at least casually interested client. She offers her friend little smiles, and they find kinetic synchronicity as they shoulder-roll together in the mirror.  

Glinda is so overjoyed at her new project that she dances triumphantly down the hall: running, skipping, and reaching her arms wide in the flight of a small but graceful leap. She confidently steps her feet wide, raises her chin, and places her hands on hips: a power pose. She’s 150% sure that she can make Glinda “popular”...if not as popular as her, of course. 

The twists and turns of the rest of their story might at times shake that confidence, test their friendship, and even endanger them both – yet one could argue that such embodiment is a big part of why they ever became friends in the first place. Fiyero’s viscerally-channeled wantonness is also, again arguably, a catalyst for them sharing that embodiment – and thus deep understanding. 

Either way, their movement teaches us much about their psychology and who they are as people. If we can see that in a story like this, in a fictional world where dancing helps immerse us, we might just see it more in our world: right around us, in us, and through us each day.

(Images via "Wicked", Universal Pictures, 2024: no rights claimed)